In Temperature Poem by Satish Verma
In Temperature
You were my mistake, O god
The road doesn't open now.
My hands cannot reach
to catch the salvo of anonymity
The pain differs from the flesh
Untouched, unbroken and stubborn.
You smell like jasmine.
The blood enfolds the injuries.
An ambush takes a violent turn.
You know who commands the wishes.
Saturday, October 30, 2021
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5/15/2024 2:24:31 PM # 1.0.0.1119
